


Halfling Mate

by cherryflesh



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hobbits, Is that orc regular size?, M/M, Nope!, Oral Sex, Orcs, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryflesh/pseuds/cherryflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place at the end of An Unexpected Journey, and takes a different turn when Azog and his gang attacks our heroes. Azog catches the scent of his mate, and it all goes downhill from there. After all, what is an orc supposed to do with a halfling mate? (The answer to that is bad, bad things and you might want to click away right now.) And anyway, will Bilbo Baggins the Burglar be able to handle Azog the Defiler?</p>
<p>Yeah, I have no idea. I was hoping you did. This is either a short prologue to shameless smut or a teasing one-shot, depending on what kind of feedback I get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. Comments are welcome and loved!
> 
> (If you like it enough that I continue this story, I will be taking some liberties with orc culture.)

It was a little-known fact that orcs had mates. Once found, the sundaum* would be hidden away, far beyond the reach of any enemy. Finding ones mate was unusual, and not altogether something welcome. For the strong, it was seen as a blessing. The sulmus, the aggressive part, would double in strenght and power by the simple act of joining with their sundaum. It was the sundaum’s place to submit. Almost exclusively, an orc’s mate would be another orc. Once in a while, though, a mate was found in another species. Mostly among men.

Never in Azog’s life had he heard of anyone finding their mate in a halfling. At first he had taken the small creature for a vile dwarf, but it smelled different. Azog inhaled deeply of the delicious scent, like tea and honey and salty skin. A soft smell. He sneered at the sudden knot of worry in his chest. _Worry?_ The very thought of being reduced to that brought on a wave of fury so hot it melted away the concern for the fleeing creature he recognised as his mate.

He gave into the fury with a roar and signaled for attack. In the last moment he pointed at the halfling with his weapon.

”That one’s mine!”

  

* * *

 

Bilbo blinked and tried to adjust his grip on the tree branch, failed and half fell, half slid down the rough bark of the tree trunk. Surely, Azog had meant Thorin? After all, they were deadly enemies. Bilbo was just… Bilbo.

He bolted through the trees, hoping that he would not be seen. At least the others were far up in the treetops, he was the only one who had failed to get up there. Wargs growled and snapped at him as he ran past, but they did not give chase, nor did their riders. A couple of orcs leered at him, but made no move to capture him. Bilbo felt encouraged by this, in this grand adventure he was an unimportant burglar, nothing for the enemy to be concerned about…

A thundering sound closed in, much too fast for him to react, and before he knew it he was hauled up and pressed against a rock, or a chest, if there was a difference he was not able to tell. Possibly the rock was softer. The hard muscles flexing against his back was unyielding in a way that made a rock seem like a pillow. He squirmed and flailed to get out of the grip but felt a cold metal hook against his finger, and stopped all movements. 

_Azog the Defiler._

He blinked, noticing the white fur of the snarling warg he was sitting on, the pale, scarred skin of the muscled thigh he was straddling. Glancing up, he swallowed hard as icy, blue eyes met his own briefly and fangs glinted in a quick sneer. 

Bilbo took a chance, and leapt. For half a glorious second he thought he had made it, then he was caught by the scruff of his neck and hauled up over the warg, so that he was laying on his stomach across its hairy back… and across Azog’s lap. The pale orc’s furious growl sent a wave of cold fear through Bilbo, who hung there limply as if dead. The spell broke when a clawed hand landed on his arse with a firm slap, then _stayed_ there, a humiliating, horrifying weight against his backside. Bilbo made an indignated sound that was drowned out in the background noise of roars and screams. He did not dare to protest more; the hand was huge, covering both cheeks in its grip. Had he not known who it belonged to he might have found it oddly comforting in the wild ride.

But now he knew, and the only sensation he felt was dread.

The sounds of battle grew fainter until it had faded completely and Bilbo wondered where they were going. When the warg finally slowed and halted he couldn’t tell how much time had passed, only that he was dizzy from hanging upside down for so long. Azog dismounted, grabbing Bilbo by the back of his coat and shirt and simply carried him with him like a piece of luggage. Among the trees he could glimpse other orcs, eyeing him with interest.

But he had heard Azog speak before, and if he could talk he could be reasoned with. Well, hopefully. Probably not, but perhaps fooled? Bilbo hoped. They were in some sort of camp, he could spot tents, dark and dirty. Skulls of various origin seemed to be a common theme of decoration.

Entering the largest tent, Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously on the ground. Azog was hissing and muttering in Black Speech, pacing around the dimly lit tent, never taking his eyes from Bilbo for more than a moment. Bilbo carefully got to his feet, wondering what the pale orc was saying. He swallowed hard and decided to give reasoning a try.

”Azog…” he began, taking a step back when the huge orc turned and fixed him with a glare. ”Why am I here?” Numerous reasons paraded through his mind, none of them pleasant. At least one of them was likely. ”I feel I should tell you that hobbits taste awfully. Just ghastly. No amount of spices could… ah…hah…” When Azog’s scarred lips twisted into a horrible grin, Bilbo felt his own lips tug into a nervous smile in return.

Then the pale orc removed his armor. Bilbo looked away, sputtering protests, then glanced back at the sight of the massive cock that was already half-hard.

”Give me your mouth”, the pale orc said in his raspy voice. ”Or I will take your arse.”

”I… what… I…” Bilbo stammered, trying to process what he heard. His eyes went to Azog’s face from his cock and back again. ”I-I don’t think I can…”

Azog took a few steps towards him and Bilbo jumped back, his eyes wide and fearful.

”Wait!” He held up his hands. ”Wait. Please. I…” He licked his lips, then blinked a few times. ”I have never…um…I don’t think I would be very good at it…”

He was shaking. This was really happening. He barely stood higher than the waist of the orc, and the sheer size of him, and his cock, was beyond intimidating. A low growl, no, a rumbling laugh was Azog’s only response.

 

 

(*roughly translated as ’conquest’)


	2. A soft threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a continuation of the last chapter, so... I guess "Azog is a big meanie" sums is up?

Bilbo backed away, and Azog followed. When Bilbo hit the tent wall he stopped and tried to catch his breath, tried desperately to think. Nothing came to him, no brilliant solution or escape plan, and then Azog was right there, the thick hardness right in front of his face. He should do as he was told, he knew. It was his only chance of survival. But fear had frozen him on the spot and as he looked up into the cold, blue eyes he felt something else as well… an instinct to submit that he could not explain. Common sense declared that it was useless to throw himself on Azog the Defiler’s mercy, as the orc was practically famous for having none. Still, Bilbo tended to go with his gut feeling in dangerous situations, and it had served him well so far…

 

When the halfling sank to his knees in front of him, Azog grinned cruelly, anticipating his mate’s hot mouth…but instead the small head dropped forward to rest on his knee. Azog stared down at the blond locks, felt his mate’s trembling hands clutch at his leg.

 

”Please…” the small man whispered. ”Please…”

 

Azog knew that word, had heard it often enough. For the first time it did not fill him with satisfaction. Instead he had to fight the urge to… what, he did not know. The concept of comforting was too alien for him to comprehend. The halfling _should_ fear him, and Azog would take care to keep it that way. His mate would never know that the kind of power he wielded over Azog.

 

Azog touched the honey-colored locks, enticed by the softness. With a careful tug, that nonetheless had the small creature whimpering, he urged his mate on his feet. Unwilling to relinquish his prize, he tugged harder until his mate had to stand on his toes to avoid being lifted by his hair, then harder still and enjoyed the frantic scrabbling against his waist and chest.

 

”Azog..!”

 

Azog inhaled deeply, a rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest at the sound of his own name whispered so breathlessly by his own mate.

 

”You’re hurting me...!”

 

Again, a first; a surge of protectiveness that he had not felt since his whelp was attacked by one of the shapeshifters many years ago. Instinctively, he released his grip and the halfling landed in a heap on the ground. Confusion churning, he knelt beside the small male, still towering over him in sheer size, and bared his teeth in a snarl that made the other’s eyes widen in alarm. But the halfling did not move, simply looked up at him with wide eyes. For a moment Azog too was still, unable to look away from the soft features… then he snarled again, disgusted with himself, with the weakness he felt spreading inside him like a sickness. Matehood was not at all what he had expected! He did _not_ get confused, did _not_ hesitate; matehood promised strength, and so far all it did was make him weak!

 

The more familiar heat of anger melted away all confusion and he grabbed the halfling and turned him on his stomach. The struggles grew frantic when Azog tore his pants down, and he growled low in appreciation of the soft, bare arse.

 

”Now, see here..!”

 

He found the halfling’s nervous indignation arousing and his cock grew harder as he pinned the struggling male with his metal claw pressed hard between his shoulderblades. His good hand palmed the plump cheeks that wriggled so temptingly, and he trailed his claws lightly up and down the crack, a soft threat that provoked a whimper from the halfling.

 

”N-no! Let me up!”

 

The sweet scent of fear filled the tent and Azog inhaled it deeply, taking his cock in hand and running the head between the soft cheeks. Slowly… up and down… now and again he pushed, short, mocking stabs against the tightly clenched opening, feeling the halfling’s lower body contract in terror. Delighting in it.

 

**”Would mating kill you, I wonder”,** Azog mused, voice hoarse with arousal, knowing that the halfling would not understand him when he spoke in Black Speech.

 

Bilbo was so terrified that he could hardly think. The sharp metal claw dug in between his shoulder blades and every movement threatened to pierce his skin. He was half up on his knees so his bare arse was up in the air; he had never felt so vulnerable. The thick head of Azog’s cock tormented him, sliding and pushing until he was afraid he would pass out from fear. And yet he was sure the pale orc was toying with him, taunting him. Did that mean that Bilbo could still convince him to… not..?

 

Refusing to finish the thought, Bilbo gathered his courage, determined to make one last attempt at negotiation.

 

”Don’t do this, I beg you!” Even in his own ears, he sounded desperate. _Not a good start_ , he reminded himself. _Do better!_ ”I will- I’ll- I’ll –”, he stuttered, trying desperately to put his vague idea into words. He wanted to suggest something else, something that would please the orc and convince him to not… and he simply knew too little about the act between two males. There had been plenty of dalliances with female hobbits, especially when he was younger, but that was a far cry from the monster at his back.

 

But the pale orc stilled behind him, as if waiting for his next words. Desperate, Bilbo repeated Azog’s earlier words.

 

”I’ll give you my mouth!”

 

Again that raspy chuckle that sent pinpricks of arousal shivering through his body.

 

”So eager to please?”

 

In westron now, and although heavily accented, Bilbo understood.

 

”I shall rather find out how much your body can fit…” The big, clawed hand came down on his backside, giving it a rough squeeze that made Bilbo inhale sharply.

 

”You’ll kill me”, he whispered, dread turning his thoughts and limbs heavy and immobile.

 

”You will beg me to”, the pale orc grated, hating that his mate’s trembling body filled him with unease rather than satisfaction.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! Without them I probably would have let this stay a one-shot. :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter - it takes time for me to navigate inside the heads of the characters and while Bilbo is fairly easy, Azog is surprisingly complicated. But yay chemistry? So, yeah, um, tell me if you want more, and if you have any thoughts on it, where you hope it might go, and so on! Comments and feedback fuels my inspiration. :)


	3. Taking the edge off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues. How will Azog proceed with his halfling prisoner? Will he listen to his primal instincts or go with the tried and true orc approach - perhaps a bit of both?

At Azog’s words Bilbo went limp and for a moment Azog thought that he had fainted, but the sharp, shallow breathing told him otherwise. Normally his instincts served him well, but right now he had an overwhelming urge to lash out against anything that caused his mate distress; since he himself was now the source of his mate’s terror another feeling rose in him, strange and confusing.  
  
He kept his hand on his cock, stroking it slowly, but lifted the metal claw from the halfling’s back. Waiting to see what he would do. He half expected his mate to bolt, but instead the smaller man turned slowly, blue eyes still wide with fear.

* * *

It took a few moments before Bilbo found the courage to turn and face Azog, but when he did he saw that the rage had gone from the orc’s eyes. They were now intent and calculating as they regarded him. Bilbo tried to think, to marshal his wits once more; for a few heartstopping seconds he had given up, but for reasons he could not fathom Azog had not followed through with the threat.  
  
Something inside him was trying to tell him something, the same instincts that made him want to submit before, to appeal to Azog, the same insistent tugging was now urging him to take advantage of the moment and placate the orc. He licked his dry lips and clumsily maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on his knees in front of Azog, finally daring to look at the thick cock. As if allowing him to look his fill, Azog’s hand stilled and Bilbo could not help but stare at the rigid length, with thick veins and as pale as the rest of Azog. Tentatively Bilbo reached out for it, glancing up at Azog’s face. The orc said nothing and although Bilbo couldn’t interpret the expression on his face, he took the silence as permission to continue. As soon as his fingers touched the heated skin, an answering fire flared up inside of him. Azog’s chest vibrated in a rumbling growl that sent shivers though Bilbo’s body, but not of fear; he didn’t know how he knew that the sound was not aggressive, but he felt that it was a sound of approval rather than hostility. Emboldened, he gripped the thick cock and it was with no small amount of apprehension that he realised that he couldn’t close his hand around it. Red-faced, he moved his hand, squeezed the length and paid attention to Azog’s reactions.  
  
_He needs more_ , Bilbo thought when Azog hissed impatiently. A pearl of sweat formed at his temple, and he swallowed hard several times before he leaned forward and gripped the cock with both hands, pumping it as best as he could. After a moment of hesitation he pressed his tongue to the underside of the bulbous head, licking the spot he likes to touch on himself.  


* * *

Azog groaned loudly and sank back on his knees, moving his hand to cradle his halfling. Murmuring praise to his mate, his sundaum, in Black Speech, he looked down at the halfling working his cock with his lips and tongue. Mesmerized by the sight of his mate trying to fit his lips over the head of his cock. The most enticing smell teased his nose and his nostrils flared as he tried to inhale as much of it as possible. Realization hit him; his mate was aroused. Mutual lust, something else that was alien to him, and it was intoxicating. There was no word for ”consensual” in Black Speech, there was no need for one as it was unimportant. Orcs mated as they wanted to, with the stronger orc simply taking what he or she wanted. The weaker, if smart, submitted and secured his own pleasure. Azog had never bothered with another’s pleasure before, except as a form of dominance. Bringing another violently to the brink of utter vulnerability and pushing them over the edge was a game Azog indulged in from time to time, but there was never any care or tenderness, only brutality.  
  
Right now he was past caring, past questioning his own actions. His mate was working feverishly on his cock, licking and sucking as if it held the antidote to a lethal poison. It was too much, too good to last… with a roar he came, fighting the urge to bury his cock in the halfling’s throat, forcing it inside. Still, the brave halfling swallowed his seed, lapping dutifully at his pulsing cock until it was clean. He panted, staring up at Azog, wild-eyed and lost as if he was waking up from a dream. Azog grinned like a shark and gave him a light push that was enough to send him sprawling on his back. The pink cock, so much smaller than Azog’s, jutted proudly from between his thighs.  
  
Azog licked his lips as he regarded the feast spread out before him. He was not done yet, oh no.  


* * *

   
Bilbo fought the urge to inch back, to put some distance between himself and the huge orc that eyed him so hungrily. His lips was still swollen and numb, his jaw aching and he could still taste Azog’s cock on his tongue. His mind was reeling from it, and from the fact that he had _enjoyed_ it, had nearly spilled himself while doing it. He was grateful that he had not had a hand free, else he would have touched himself. As it was he was still hard. Some part of him wanted to spread his legs in welcome, but the sensible part still resisted. A jolt of terror hit him when Azog bent down and pinned Bilbo’s wrists over his head with his metal claw, then ran his big palm over his chest and belly. Bilbo whimpered then bit down on his lip to keep more noise from spilling out.  
  
Ice-blue eyes glanced quickly at his face, then raked down his body. He held up his hand and bit off the claw of the forefinger before pushing it into Bilbo’s mouth. He moaned around it and sucked; the finger was big, roughly the size of his own cock. Azog pulled it out and his hand disapperad from Bilbo’s view. Then he felt it between his legs and inhaled sharply as he realized what Azog was going to do. _No no, no please..!_ But the words were never uttered. He was afraid, deadly afraid that if he protested, Azog might do something worse. So he lifted his shaking legs to offer better access, and was rewarded with the rumbling sound of approval.  
  
The finger found his opening, and pushed. Bilbo yelled but held his position, afraid that if he struggled now he would only hurt himself. Azog gave him little time to adjust as he pushed his finger all the way in and angled it just _so._ This time Bilbo did move and arched his back, gasping for air. Azog massaged the spot without mercy and Bilbo squirmed, whimpers and moans spilling from his lips as drop after drop of precum was forced out of him. It was pleasure and torture in one and he couldn’t hold back no more than he could keep rain from falling. With a broken scream he came undone, spilling his seed over his belly as his ass spasmed around the invading finger. Azog kept moving the finger, cruelly playing with the sensitive spot inside of him until pleasure turned to pain and he couldn’t hold back a cry for mercy.  
  
”Please! No more, I can’t, please..!”  
  
The finger stilled and to Bilbo’s surprise it withdrew. Bilbo looked up into Azog’s face. Their gazes locked; one pair as blue as an august sky, the other pair the pale blue of icicles. Without ceremony Azog picked him up and held him firmly against his chest while carrying him over to the pile of furs in the inner room of the tent. Bilbo found his face pressed against the hard chest, rubbing against the jagged scars. He wondered about them, what had caused them and why. They looked almost… ritualistic. That was all he had time to ponder before Azog stretched out on his back on top of the pile of furs, and held Bilbo tucked into his arm by his side.  
  
They said nothing. The past sensation overload replayed itself over and over in Bilbo’s head and it was with no small amount of shame that he had to admit that he had enjoyed himself, both when servicing Azog and submitting to the fingering. Fear settled deep in his stomach; there was simply no way that he would be able to take that massive cock inside of him, and it was doubtlessly what Azog had in mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for commenting and having patience with me! Bilbo is not difficult to write but Azog is... hard. It's really hard to see it from his perspective, with his (presumed) background with the violent kill-or-be-killed, finders-keepers orc culture. But I think I've kind of... got it? Kind of. He is easily one of the hardest characters that I've ever tried to write.
> 
> Anyway, please tell me what you think and if you enjoyed it and want more. I mean, do you see Azog and Bilbo actually doing the deed in the next chapter? I rely on your comments for feedback and inspiration! <3


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